


130 Prompts #93 - Unwelcome

by FountainPenguin



Series: Lavender Train [11]
Category: Fairly OddParents
Genre: Fantastic Racism, Gen, High School, Magical Sports, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-01 16:59:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FountainPenguin/pseuds/FountainPenguin
Summary: Poof tries out for the Carl Poofypants High School saucerbee team. Foop wants to join in, but Coach is reluctant to let an Anti-Fairy play.





	130 Prompts #93 - Unwelcome

 

 **93\. Unwelcome**  (Post-series)

_Year of Leaves; Winter of the White Strawberry_

* * *

"You have to be yanking my wings," Amelli groaned from somewhere on his left. Turning, she flapped the card she'd drawn at the rest of the two dozen or so of them crammed onto the bench. "I have to do a  _war tank?_ I don't know the first thing about tanks. What did you pull, Poof?"

He shrugged. "Walrus. Sorry. Good luck."

"Quiet there near the dugout. Quiet!"

Poof tightened his headband beneath his thick purple curl with a tug sharp enough to rattle its heart-shaped badge. His ponytail bumped between his shoulder blades as he stood. Playtime had finally arrived.

Gray eyes flicked right, then left. Wings thrummed as Coach paced – in the air, of course – up and down the line, tugging one of his antennae. "All right, you bunch of juvenile hopefuls. For many of you, this is your last shot at making the team before you'll graduate and head off to another century of high school. That's where the real competition will begin. Now, let's see what fresh meat this year's crop has raked in. Present your wands!"

They went up as instructed- near the right cheek, with the right hand positioned above and the left hand across the body and below. Cheston Maycott dropped his from a pale jittering hand, but Poof wasn't at all concerned. He'd made the cut every year for a decade, and he still had two years ahead of him before graduation. Coach made a signal to a nearby sylph at the launch cart, she clutching uncertainly at the brim of her pointed, star-patterned hat.

"Release the targets."

One jerk of a handle later, ten white discs with gold stars painted in their middles went soaring over the heads of the anxious and/or giddy Fairies below.

"Tea-saucers live!" Coach blew his whistle, then dropped it and clapped his hands in rapid succession as the Fairies on the line dropped or pocketed their cards, shoved down their wings, and jumped skyward. "Let's move it, move it, Poofypants Scarabs! It's already four o'clock, and I want to be back with the wife in time for dinner tonight. Claybrook, snap to it!"

Maxwell spun his wand and fired a sharp blast at the nearest saucer. In a burst of pink sparkles, it twisted shape into a scrawny vulture. Poof ducked its talons and joined his fellows in the spiral swarm above, waiting for his cue.

"Lyfeld!"

Lester was a natural-born show-off. He back-flipped from the cluster of zipping Fairies, tucking in his wings. As he fell, he tossed his wand from right hand to left and cast his beam.  _Poof!_  One of the other discs turned into a slender otter, which he caught in his arms and tossed to Saffron, who tossed it to Caleb, who tossed it through the end zone goal; it turned instantly back into a saucer, and Lester flashed over to catch it on the other side. The other discs were nearing the grass at rapid speed, but they would veer away. They were programmed to be evasive if they wanted to.

"Awish, Thimble, Corbett- go!"

 _Poof, poof, poof!_ Battering ram, elephant, water bottle-

"Strader, Cosma, Dyeberry!"

Goldie (Sweet Goldie) started a cheer down below, and the thin crowd picked it up: "Poof, Poof, Poof, Poof!"

The fairy waited for the other two to make their move so their beams wouldn't collide in a messy mixture of machinery and animal parts and make all of them look like fools. Once he found a stray saucer, he aimed his wand and prepared an elegant spin that would make him look a lot better at the game than unfamiliar onlookers might expect from his heavier body. But just as he fired, a thick zigzag of blue careened upwards from the opposite side of the cloud-link fence that surrounded the high school's field. A snapping sound. A guttural moan. Poof veered away, barrel-rolling until he pulled up facing the flailing giraffe as it swiped its hooves and plunged towards the purple grass. "What the-?"

Coach threw down his clipboard and beat his way towards the bleachers. "All right, which of you sideliners did that? There is no bystander magic allowed during tryouts. Hover, Cosma; I'll ensure you get your chance." (A joke- Poof's place was as good as secured anyway.)

A blue-furred drake with two shadowy bat wings curling from the back of his lime-colored speech-and-debate team t-shirt took a step forward, amid a heavy chorus of jeers and scoldings. Tilting up his chin, he purred, "I'm te _rrr_ ibly sorry I'm late, Coach. Someone accidentally transformed an apple into a rhinoceros while I was on my way through the halls, and if I was going to be missing the card drawing, I figured I couldn't simply walk out here without pulling a little stunt to get your attention somehow. Heh-ah! Aha!"

One of the qalupalik in the stands batted at the fluffy fence. "Hey, preppy! Get off the field!"

"You're not supposed to interfere!"

"Poofypants Green's not your color!"

"This isn't a game for an anti-fairy!"

"Who let you through the Barrier anyway?"

"You can't play when Poof makes the team!"

"Go back to biology class, Anti-Cosma!"

The anti-fairy flicked his eyes in the direction of the tall-crowned nix who had called that last part. Leaning an elbow against the fence, he  _twang_ ed his mustache and said, "It's Anti-Fairywinkle, actually. Or Anti-Cosma-Anti-Fairywinkle if you really want to focus on the nitty-gritty technicalities. As any real Fairy of any intelligence ought to know, on our side of the Divide, we get our surnames from our mothers."

"Poof," Amelli hissed, floating closer as one of the lonely saucers bumped up against her stomach, "what are you doing? He's yours! Go talk to him."

"Um. Right. Okay." As the booing continued, Poof dipped down to meet him and the Coach. He checked over his shoulder as he stilled his wings and touched down in the glittering grass. "Hey, Foop, what's going on? This is the saucerbee team tryouts."

"I'm well aware of that, creampuff." Foop gestured to his brightly-colored, er, 'uniform' with his dark wand. "And here I am, trying out at tryouts. Really, whyever did you think I was even here?"

As Coach refocused his attention on a brownie who had been zapped by a misfired spell and flipped into a small bald squirrel that was now terrorizing the others with laser-vision, Poof narrowed his eyes. "You don't even know how to play."

"Oh, if that's what you think, then mentally prepare yourself to see what Uncle Cosmo got me when I paid a visit to him on his last birthday. Which you never bothered to show up for, I might add. Wallah! Feast your eyes upon  _this_  nasty crumpet!"

"'How to Play Saucerbee Like Henry Huddlewand: An Instant Classic'." Poof sighed and took the book away. He tossed it on the ends of the bleachers that stuck out from behind the fence. "Saucerbee's not something you can just read about in your dorm and all of a sudden get good at, Foop. It's something you have to…  _experience_ , y'know? Listen. My place in this school is out here on the field. Yours is in your weird lab doing… whatever those nerdy dissection things you do all day are."

Foop straightened up, either offended or just playing the part as he stroked his goatee. "That's strange, but I don't quite remember 'Foop is not allowed to branch out to other areas of interest besides the ones he has already expressed interest in' being anywhere in the school rulebook."

Poof gave a grunt. "Oh, right. I forgot you actually read that thing."

"When you're on the lower end of the social ladder, you have to know what the exact rules and loopholes are so you're prepared when someone tries to use them against you, and you don't get thrown out." Sticking his wand behind his back, he rocked on his heels to his toes to his heels. He was smiling. "You may not know this, Poof, but thanks to that un _fortun_ ate mishap of yours truly swallowing your instinct to destroy him back while he was only lifesmoke, I'm quite lucky to be allowed to attend a school full of Seelie Courters. I happen to like it here, and I would prefer not to call Jorgen's attention to myself and end up losing my Barrier-crossing privileges."

"Why this sudden random interest in the game?"

"Why? Well, partly because I've bet a large amount of money on my ability to show up my competitors, partly because I've never played this sport and it looks interesting, and partly because I'm sick and tired of you breaking our limbs every couple of weeks without me getting so much as a say-so in it." He gestured at his right arm to indicate the core-sync. "If you're going to drag me along through that, I really think I deserve the chance to defend myself, don't you think so?"

"Foop, if this is just a joke to you-"

The gnarled hands came up, palms outward and vibrating back and forth. "No, no joke, Poof. I know how it works. Three teams on the field, fourteen players to a team with six allowed out at a time, all of them grappling for the coveted opportunity to shoot at the ten live tea-saucers while they dart about out here like utter moronic simpletons-"

The fairy grimaced. "Yes, I've been team captain for three years running. I've played saucerbee since I was little league age. I think I know how it all works."

"The goal of the game is to use magic to shapeshift the tea-saucer into something bigger and better than what the person from the other team before you did, with points being awarded for time, accuracy, ability, presentation, and result, but no duplicates are allowed even across all eleven rounds, and bringing the shifted saucer to the end zone on the opposite end of the field will result in the ringing up of major bonus points. While the end zone itself may not be guarded directly, the goal of those who play defense is to triage which ex-saucers are worth-"

"Okay, okay. I get it. You know a thing or two about the sport." Poof twirled his kitnut wand between his fingers and clenched it in his fist. "Go… wait for your cue up in the swarm with everybody else. I'll pull a string and make sure Coach lets you try out."

The 'Boo!'s echoed back with renewed vigor as Foop swaggered his way across the field with wings beating, bowing and blowing kisses. "Ancient King Nuada help me," muttered Poof, and kicked into the air again.

He got the signal from Coach before he even joined up again with the rest of the other Fairies. "Cosma, next one's all yours. Release the second batch!"

As the sylph fired off the tea-saucers again, Poof lifted one finger and raised his eyebrows in Foop's general direction. Coach gave him a,  _You let me worry about that and play, dangit_  hand wave in response.

Poof dove down, gathered momentum, and spiraled upwards again as the spinning discs fast approached. Weaving between the first three or four, he front-flipped and, while upside-down, zapped one on the end with bright yellow. Both hands clenched around the handle of his wand. The saucer erupted into a fatty brown walrus. It bellowed and aimed for him with its fangs (tusks- they were tusks) as it fell. After a blink of hesitation, Poof morphed himself into a magic carpet, caught it with a blurp, and sped for the end zone.

"Defense team, strike! Hawtry, Bredhem, Sparklespit!"

Poof whizzed between beams as best as he was able to, which, as a widespread target with an enormous walrus bearing down on his back, was not very well at all. He probably made it about four yards before someone scored a hit and  _poof_ ed him into a dot-sized housefly. The walrus's weight sent them plowing towards the grass. Poof barely managed to make it out from beneath the thing before painful bone-splitting impact (though, looking back on it there was no reason to really panic about getting squashed, as the saucer of course flipped back to its natural state before it  _chuff_ ed and rolled across the grass).

"Not bad for knowing you had no back-up, Cosma," Coach called, golf-clapping as Karina turned him back to normal and Poof shook the effects of fagigglyne off. "Remember, everyone- coordination and cooperation a successful team makes. Anti-Fairywinkle? Let's see what you've got."

Well, this ought to be good. Poof drifted over behind Coach's shoulder. There he hovered, his left leg straight and his right slightly bent. He folded his arms. Who exactly was this geeky free-tail who thought he could make it representing the Poofypants Scarabs on the saucerbee fields?

Turns out, he was Anti-Poof "Foop" Anti-Cosma-Anti-Fairywinkle. As he whirled in circles and blasted in the general direction of every loose saucer (they scattered in a panic, hiding behind any Fairy capable of offering cover that they could find), Poof found himself gawking. He was good.

He was really, really good.

Uncomfortably good.

Henry Huddlewand kind of good.

Poof realized his hands had inched over his mouth while Foop spun, zapped tea-saucers into various poultry and office supplies, and ducked the occasional counterblow from a signaled Fairy in the swarm. "That's not possible," he found himself whispering to no one but his own ears. The sickliness made his wings skip multiple beats. "He's- he's my opposite. He can't- he can't- The only way he could be that good is, is if  _I'm_  actually the one who…"

Coach batted Poof's shoulder with one of his antennae, not even taking his eyes away from the spiraling anti-fairy. "Don't flap your wings dustless, Cosma. Free-tailed bats are the anti-fairy patron specifically because the dragonfly is yours- you're  _both_  supposed to be the fastest subspecies of your Court. He's thin and better at weaving, and he's undoubtedly more powerful transformation-wise, but you are faster on the draw and more accurate. Look; he's only hit five of them. You'd have at least seven or eight by this time if that was you up there. Granted, you also probably would've been turned into a dung beetle by this point, so take that as you choose." He made a mark on his clipboard. "I've seen enough. Time to break the bad news to him. You can flit back up there and keep playing around if you want, but you could just as easily go home- you've won your spot, bucko."

"You're not letting Foop on the team?"

"No, I am not." The imp started to drift away. Poof chased after him, running his fingers through his ponytail.

"Coach, trust me when I say this- I don't  _want_  Foo- Er, Anti-Poof to play on the team with me, but he's totally better than two-thirds of the guys up there. We could really use him."

"Cosma, an Anti-Fairy can't play on the team when his host is already on it. Because something like  _this_ " – lurching suddenly around, Coach sliced Poof's head off with a long knife he apparently kept on his person just for this purpose, causing the fairy to gasp out of impulse as his head plopped into his own hands – "could happen at any time, and I'd lose two very capable players in an instant as opposed to one."

From his new, stunted height, Poof peered into the sky. Foop's head had popped off for no real reason, and the anti-fairy shrieked as he plowed into the floating scoreboard. His clawed fingers scrambled for a hold, but after about three seconds, his body tumbled after his plummeting skull.

"You see that?" Coach asked, pointing with his thumb. "That doesn't happen to all Anti-Fairies when magical injuries are concerned. And when it does, the delay is usually longer between."

"Well, yes, I understand that, but-"

"Coach," Foop complained, headlessly stumbling towards them with his arms waving, "what the smoof was that just then?"

Those gray eyes came flicking up and down again. "That was basic science. We've all known it for years, but due to how powerful your shared magic pool is, your sync is thick and tight. Much more than most, and particularly as you've aged. You're not both worth keeping. Poof, I've thrown you into enough games over the years and watched you blaze through them to feel comfortable sticking with you. Welcome back to the team."

His knife had been magic-touched, fortunately, so there was no blood, no lasting damage besides the startled, frizzing pain, and Poof reattached his head on his neck easily and with a light popping noise. "But Coach, can't you make an…"

Pause, followed by a swallow with a throat that was grateful to be reattached. Was he really about to defend his nemesis?

"… an exception? I watched him, and Anti-Poof's fast and accurate." Leaning closer as Foop wandered about in search of his own head (they may have severed in sync, but that didn't mean they were going to piece themselves together automatically without someone picking the blue one up), the fairy added, "And he looks like he's really actually enjoying it. I think- I honestly think this will help him be, well… better-liked by the student body. He could make friends. It can help him be a nicer person. Can't you let him have his moment?"

Coach gave a sharp flap of his wings that ruffled Poof's blue headband and his thick purple curl. "My mind is made up, Cosma. Either I take you, or I take Anti-Fairywinkle. There's no room on the team for both of you."

"Well, the choice is obvious, then," Foop's head said from the grass ("I'm over this way, you oaf! Yes, come on, you big lug, you're almost there.") "Poof's played on the team for years. Seeing as we are both fully capable players, it seems only fair that I should have a shot at the game, doesn't it?"

Coach looked at Poof, as though asking for permission. The result of which would be, well… like Foop said: obvious. Poof looked down at the handle of his wand, twisting it between chubby hands. When he dared to let his eyes flicker up again, he quietly drank in the way that Foop's powder-blue cheeks deepened into purple. The wand came up in the hand of his body, which now clutched his head beneath one arm. His other hand lashed like a blind thing.

"You- you can't be serious! Didn't you see me up there, Coach? I've been studying saucerbee players and both the mainstream offensive and defensive tactics for  _years_ , waiting for this day to arrive! I astounded the audience, wowed the crowds! I'm far better than most of those four-winged twits darting about like that, and any one of them could tell you so. I'm mint! Don't I even get a chance? I deserve one!"

"Anti-Fairywinkle, you can't even see glass. That makes you an enormous liability for the indoor season."

"But- but- Surely with my echolocation-"

"What, amongst the cheering crowds?"

"I can filter…"

After lifting an eyebrow, Coach blew a long, shrill note on his whistle. Out of impulse, Foop dropped his head and his hands flew to the place above his body where they would normally find his pointed ears. His eyelids screwed up, his fangs clamped on the tip of his tongue, and his entire figure convulsed into a half-ball. A low whimper wriggled up from the body, not his mouth. His wings beat with harsh pumps just to keep him from dropping to his knees.

"Sorry," Poof whispered, praying in silence that his voice didn't crack out loud as much as he thought it did. "Saucerbee's important to me, Foop. I'm not just going to give it up so you can mess around for a year."

When Foop picked up his head again, his entire face had twisted. "Maybe I didn't  _want_  to be the piece of you that broke off to become your anti-fairy. Don't I even get a-"

Coach slapped his groping hand away. "It's you or your counterpart, Anti-Poof. And if you don't like the way we run things at Poofypants, then you can turn tail and  _poof_  on back to Anti-Fairy World." As he turned his back, he added like an indirect afterthought, "That's where all your kind belong anyway."

* * *

**A/N:**  Kudos to those who caught that the laser squirrel was a reference to "Total Drama" Season 4.


End file.
